


Sex Is What You Make Of It

by ladymac111



Series: And The Rest Is History [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Just Married, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the Wedding Night.  A little intimacy can be a very nice thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Is What You Make Of It

The dawn broke, bright but cool, through the sheer curtains on the east-facing windows. John snuggled deeper beneath the covers, deeper into the inviting warmth and softness. As he shifted, the arm draped across his waist gently tightened.

_The arm across his waist._

Panic froze him for a long moment before his sleepy brain connected sensation and memory to tell him where he was. In Gretna Green, in a cosy B&B, in bed with Sherlock Holmes, his new husband, who had apparently decided to spoon him in his sleep.

It took a bit of doing to relax his muscles and calm his racing heart. The heart was the hardest bit – with the shock gone, the closeness of Sherlock all down his back set it pounding for another reason entirely. _A reason which I will just have to ignore_ , John reminded himself. _Until Sherlock is ready._

He breathed a sigh and rolled carefully onto his back, slightly dislodging the other man who mumbled something incoherent before finding a way to mould his body to John's new shape, his hand now resting in a loose fist above John's thundering heart, one leg thrown across John's thigh.

The harsh light of morning cast fascinating shadows across Sherlock's sleeping face, deepening hollows and highlighting cheekbones, throwing sparkles through his wild curly hair. He was truly beautiful, and the part of John that desired him physically began to ache in earnest.  _Fuck. Waiting will be agony_ . Only half thinking, he slipped one hand under his waistband and began slowly stroking himself.

He didn't know how much time passed, but when he regained awareness Sherlock's eyes were open, bright with interest as they watched him. John blushed immediately and stilled his hand, provoking a little smirk from Sherlock. “No need to stop on my account,” he breathed, voice husky with sleep. A knee pressed gently but firmly between John's legs, and he inhaled sharply, which in turn produced a deep chuckle. “Go on.”

It was so much more than a suggestion. John gripped himself more firmly, establishing a rhythm which Sherlock quickly complemented with motions that were far too leisurely to have such an erotic effect. Before he could figure out what was happening, John was gasping and moaning his release.

They lay still for a long while, enveloped in the warmth of their embrace. Sherlock was the first to speak. “Is it usually so fast?”

A giggle bubbled up from John's chest, and they rode the wave of joy together until John found his voice. “No, not usually.” He relaxed again with a satisfied sigh.

“What was different about this time?”

“Really?” With a big effort, John turned his head to look at Sherlock. “ _You_ , you idiot.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't – you call that … whatever, not doing anything? That was the most incredible wank of my life, and it's all because you were touching me and watching me and … fuck, I don't even know what you were doing. But you were here and that made it amazing.”

Sherlock beamed. “Really?”

“Of course really!” John turned back and stared in a blissed-out daze at the ceiling. “I won't lie, there are plenty of times I've gotten off thinking about you. Having you here for the act itself is literally a dream come true.”

Sherlock nuzzled into his shoulder and John could feel him smiling. “What about you? What's going on in your world this morning?”

“Wondering,” Sherlock said.

It was a moment before John realized he wasn't going to elaborate. “About what?”

There was undeniable nervousness in the pause. “About whether this counts as … having sex.”

“Up to you,” John said. “Sex is what you make of it.”

“Hardly a dictionary definition.”

“How many dictionaries do you think have had sex?” John asked, and was rewarded with another deep chuckle that shattered the tension. “I thought so.”

Sherlock pressed his hips against John's thigh, and his arousal was apparent. John's mouth went dry, and his voice was croaky when he got the words out. “Do you want … ?”

Sherlock shook his head, but it was a gentle motion, a request for postponement more than a refusal. “Not now. I'm not ready yet.” He pulled slightly away from John, who felt chilled at the loss of contact but refused to let it make him feel abandoned.

“Had enough intimacy for one morning?”

With superb grace, Sherlock rose on one elbow and kissed him. “For now.”

John smiled.  _For now_ left the opportunity for  _later_ , and he hoped it would be soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh I'm teasing you again. I'm sorry.
> 
> No I'm not. :P
> 
> I feel like there are a lot of adverbs in this story. Are there? Maybe it's because there's more "action" (har-har) and less dialogue.


End file.
